


The Costume Fits (Just A Little Too Tight)

by Koruga



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Journalism, Tags to be added, Teen Bonding, mentions of torture, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-20 23:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koruga/pseuds/Koruga
Summary: The city of Blood Gulch has an abundance of heroes. They vary in skill, age, and efficiency, but all of them are dedicated to keeping their home safe.Sometimes, however, there's more lurking behind a mask than just a villain. Sometimes you need to unwind the whole structure to find what's beneath the surface.OR:An overly-complicated Superhero AU that I had to get out of my head in any way possible.





	1. A Mask And a Name

**Author's Note:**

> This AU has been tossing around in my head for a while now, and I've been trying to figure out how best to write it out. I have plans for pretty much all the RvB characters with names, and while they might not all show up, they're definitely in this AU somewhere, in the background.
> 
> The plot is going to be kind of all over the place for a while, so be warned of that. I don't really have a plan for what I'm doing as such, so all the tags are subject to getting a lot longer. Especially the character list. Anyway, thanks and good luck!

It starts with a pair of twins, both wielding enormous miniguns as they put a bank on lockdown. Inside, a cyborg starts loading up money, while an overmuscled cape and someone bearing an uncanny resemblance to a shark intimidate the hostages. In the crowd, it's easy to miss a single teenager, scanning the scene with haunting eyes. But a firecracker pop and a joyful shout change all that, and in a second, a bank robbery becomes a headline.

 

They're newcomers to the scene, these three. Youthful heroes, still full of promise -- one decked out in pinks and purples, the other two mirroring each other with yellow and blue. Despite their inexperience, it's clear that they know how to work together; the purple one calls shots to the other one -- there's only ever two at once, and they move like a dance. The alarms scream like the people in the bank wish they could. "Stay quiet," someone whispers, before a bullet slams into a wall and the command is heeded. 

 

Ice clings to the walls and Shock shivers a little bit. The air tastes like refrigeration. It tastes artificial, even a bit slick. It's over all too soon. The robbers are bound up in colourful constructions of light, and a burst of light calms down everyone in the vicinity. The heroes seem to catch their breath, looking at each other with excited grins.

 

Before they leave, I'm lucky enough to catch them for an interview, and finally find out their aliases -- the pair of Shock and Joi, and their leader, Firework.

 

**ANDREWS: Thanks for agreeing to speak with me. This is the third battle you three have been a part of, am I correct?**   
  


**JOI:** Yes! We managed to stop an attack on City Hall by Frigid Heart last week, and the month before that we joined in the evacuation of Tenor Hospital.

 

**ANDREWS:** **Right, you were instrumental in rescuing civilians from the pediatric wing.**

 

**JOI:** That was us! Shock and I swapped places to get people to safety a bunch, and Firework used his projections to block rubble and keep it from hitting anyone.

 

**ANDREWS:** **That actually brings me to my next question. This city has already seen you in action, but we've yet to understand exactly what your powers are. Can you tell us?**

 

**JOI:** Well, Shock and I are twins, and we sort of share our powers. We can let loose this sort of…emotion bomb, that'll change people's moods around us, and we can swap!

 

**ANDREWS: Swap?**

 

**JOI:** Yeah, lemme show you.

 

_ Joi proceeds to take a deep breath, and in a flash of green light she disappears, replaced by her brother, who seems to be in the process of treating a graze on his arm. _

 

**SHOCK:** I -- oh man, she shouldn't do that without asking, I'm sorry. I need to --

 

_ With another flash of light, Shock is gone, replaced with his sister once more. _

 

**JOI:** And that's it! I'd show you our emotion bomb, but honestly, it takes a lot to pull one off, and we try not to do it more than we have to. For, you know, ethical reasons, and stuff.

 

**ANDREWS: Interesting. And what about you, Firework?**

 

_ Up until now, the de facto leader of the group has been standing off to the side, watching the civilians file out of the building and into the arms of loved ones. _

 

**FIREWORK:** Oh, uh. I…make things.

 

_ He looks over at Joi, who nods him on encouragingly. _

 

**FIREWORK:** I can project, light designs I guess? And then I make them sort of real. They disappear if I'm not paying attention to them, but I can do a bunch of them at once, so that's...okay.

 

**ANDREWS: More than okay. Your work with providing platforms and constructs is honestly inspired.**

 

**FIREWORK:** Oh, thanks! I'm still working on it, though.

 

_ He pauses, looking intently at the projected screen that covers his face -- a new take on the concept of masks. It flickers, transmitting some sort of information, and he looks at his partner nervously. _

 

**FIREWORK:** We, uh, we have to go now. Sorry for just leaving, but we have to go…do homework, and things.

 

_ With a frown, Firework begins to form a platform for himself and Joi to stand on. The crowd watches with silent appreciation as the heroes speed off in their makeshift vehicle. _

 

It has been seventeen years since the first group of heroes began calling Blood Gulch their home, and while villainy has been on the rise in the city, Blood Gulch is still far above many of its comrades in terms of city safety. Cities like Los Santos and Campbell soar above Blood Gulch in terms of Villainous Success Rate, or VSR, and even Vale, with several dedicated hero leagues based within its boundaries, continues to be threatened by the villainous Salem. Today's generation of Blood Gulch heroes have grown up in relative safety, with dozens of icons to look up to for guidance. While some worry about the safety of the youth who take on such endeavours, others believe, as they always have, that such risks are necessary to keep the city of Blood Gulch the haven it has always been.

 

_ \-- Dylan Andrews, Interstellar Daily. _

  
  
  
  


Demo threw the paper onto the metal table. "Okay, so does anyone want to refresh my memory of how we were beaten by three kids who haven't even hit their growth spurts yet?" he roared at the group in front of him. The twins were looking at anything but him, instead periodically summoning their weapons from wherever the hell they went when they weren't being fired with wild abandon by their crazy owners. Punchkill (seriously, why did they let him name himself, who the fuck chose  _ Punchkill _ as their fucking alias) was busy trying to fill up the holes left in him by stray shots from the twins, which left Sharkface looking at the mission leader with disgust.

 

"We're not the ones who started going off-script at the first sign of danger," he growled, his voice raspy and dark. "I could have cut them off with some kerosene and a spark, but you were shooting at anything that looked at you funny."

 

"Your fire could go through that purple bastard's shields! You could have burned that kid right then and there, but instead you were playing defensive, and now we --"

 

A voice cut through the darkness, followed by a knife, which embedded itself inches away from Demo's face and prompted a squeak out of the man. "You really want to kill some kids? That's a new low even for us."

 

He groaned loudly, taking the knife out of the wall and throwing it on top of the paper. "I don't need your crusade again, Belladonna. These kids decided to use their powers for this, they knew what they were getting themselves into."

 

"They're kids! I know we're doing this to get people's attention, but that doesn't mean that we have to put their lives on the line. They probably  _ don't _ know what they're doing." Belladonna paused, picking up the paper and looking over it carefully. "These kids are too well-prepared to be doing this on their own. Their costumes aren't DIY -- the twins shot Shock for almost half a second and only one bullet managed to hit him,  _ and _ it was barely a graze. They're funded, and they've been given training. I don't think they chose this line of work themselves."

 

Of course, conspiracy theorist Belladonna. Sharkface and Demo gave a groan in near-unison, but the former deferred to Demo on the reply. "And let me guess, you know who's funding them. You're going to sneak into Necessity and grab the proof you need, and we write a scathing exposé on the whole topic? If that's your plan, you'd better get on it. Andrews looks like she wants to lead the story on this new gang." He scoffed. "She's such a cape-pusher."

 

Belladonna sighed, putting the paper back down. "No, I don't know, not yet. There are some similarities to the Necessity Project here, but they would have focused these kids on protecting their assets. They wouldn't stop to protect a Charon-owned bank, even for the publicity. This is something else entirely, and I don't know whose fingerprints are on it yet." The figure of Belladonna shuddered for a second, before breaking out of existence. Just a shadow, with the real one nowhere to be found. "But you can bet I'm going to find out."


	2. Winding Down, Winding Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eta, Theta, and Iota managed to finish their mission relatively unscathed, but the day isn't over yet. They still have responsibilities they need to attend to, mundane and fantastic alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it helps anyone, I've been envisioning Eta and Iota as having the voices of Nerris and Harrison from Camp Camp. Personalities could use some fine-tuning on that front, but that's where I'm at.
> 
> Also, I'd like to give thanks to [RiverDelta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverDelta/pseuds/RiverDelta) for giving feedback on this chapter and the last one. She's a huge help in editing, and also, just great at writing!

When Theta and Iota finally got back to the villa that had been classified as their home base, the latter's eternally chipper attitude had begun to take a downturn in the hot summer weather. The polymer their outfits used wasn't exactly built to be breezy, and Theta refused to construct a fan for her so he could "focus on keeping us moving, Io, we're twenty four meters up in the air!"

 

"Next time we go out, you have to spend the time flying home!" she called out as Theta touched down in the small courtyard next to the fig tree, letting his construct -- a hoverboard, or at least a skateboard that could float -- disappear in a shimmer of light. "I got banged up too, and you weren't hurt  _ that _ bad." She ripped off her mask, followed by the gloves of her costume, and balled them up to throw at her brother, who hadn't looked up from his book yet.

 

"Hey," he protested weakly, fumbling to catch them. "I got shot with a bullet, and he said to come right back and report if anything got through our suits. I was doing what he asked me to, and you know we shouldn't disobey him."

 

"But you're fine! I would know if you got seriously hurt, and you didn't. It's just a scrape, okay? And--"

 

"Guys, could you please stop fighting?" Both twins turned to look at Theta, who had already dissolved his constructed costume to reveal the t-shirt and jeans underneath. "I don't care who I take back next time, and I mean, I'm sure he won't be too upset if we're a little late, right? He's scary, but he's not mean." Theta didn't sound confident in his assertion, but Theta never sounded confident in his assertions. In Iota's opinion (which she would tell to anyone who would listen), he was only one step above Eta in terms of actually being able to speak his mind. But he was smart, and a year older than she was, which made him the leader by default when their guardian wasn't around.

 

Iota sighed dramatically, but soon began wearing her trademark smile again. She tapped her brother on the shoulder playfully, before jogging over to the door leading into her room. "Okay, I have to change back, because this stuff is really hot. Then we can start actually working on our homework!" 

 

"Yeah, just a second! We still need to--" the door closed, "--tell...hhhnever mind. I can do it myself, I guess. Eta, do you want to help?" Theta looked over at the other twin, who suddenly seemed incredibly engrossed in the book he was reading."Okay, I mean, I guess I can--"

 

"He's out," Eta said quietly, not looking up from his book. "He said there was something important he needed to take care of at Necessity Labs. He still goes there a lot."

 

The mention of the labs sent a chill down Theta's spine, and one hand went unconsciously to cover his wrist. He took a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay. We can tell him when he gets back, and do our work in the meantime. I still need your help with some of the English homework." Theta sat down next to Eta gently, staying a few feet away on the stone bench so he was closer to the pomegranate shrub than he was to Eta.

 

Eta cocked his head a bit, looking up with that rare smile on his face, that made the whole world just a little bit brighter. "And you'll help us with math and science in exchange?"

 

"Yeah, of course." Theta paused for a second, and stood up slowly to get to his own room. "I forgot my books though, back in my room? I need to go get them." He moved carefully back to his room, taking as little time as possible so he could get back to Eta. "So, uh, I had some questions about  _ Wide Sargasso Sea _ that I didn't get. I know it's supposed to be a fanfiction to  _ Jane Eyre _ , but I don't remember anything about it. And you read those two for fun a few months ago, so I was kind of hoping you could help me?" He held out his notes to Eta, who regarded them with something approaching suspicion for a few seconds before he grabbed the notebook out of Theta's hands and began looking over them with his highlighter.

 

"Oh, well it's a sort of response to English fiction written in the Victorian era, and especially  _ Jane Eyre _ , like you said. But it's also sort of a feminist critique of some of the story elements, and anti-colonial? Which makes it a response to English fiction again, I guess, but that's not really the point--"

 

And like that, the two were entwined in their conversation, insecurities between the two of them melting away into the pure joy of shared information. Iota joined them, after a few minutes, bringing her own insights to the conversation, how she related with the books, and how she didn't. Three people, for a while, were one, a shared conversation and imagination weaving from literature, to physics, to theatre, to chemistry.

 

The three children lived their lives through a bubble, never sure enough as to what their next move was, but there was a spark in all of them, something that drew them together. And as much as they could experience it through the liquid movement of battle, it was just as easy to see it here, in the midafternoon shade of a fig tree as they passed around a newly-ripened pomegranate and stained their clothes and their fingers with red juice trying to get the seeds. They were content.

 

\---

 

 

Twilight was spreading across the sky when Theta finally got a moment to himself, up on the roof with his box of fireworks and the purpley-pink sky. He liked to go up there, to let off steam, and maybe a few sparks as well. He looked up, past the light pollution and the clouds, at the faintest hint of stars, and his whole body melted into a gooey smile as he took out a firecracker. Today had been a pretty good day. He deserved to light up a few flares, watch them sparkle out and into the sky, to --

 

Without warning, the firecracker was set alight, making him shriek a bit before dropping it. The colourful cracker fizzed on the ground for a few seconds before making a loud crack, and Theta turned guiltily towards the source of the ignition.

 

"Sorry, I really am, I wasn't going to light a lot of them, really, I just--"

 

The man standing in front of Theta wasn't tall by most standards, but his wirelike limbs and posture made him seem far longer than he really was. He was still dressed in his work clothes -- a dress shirt and pants, in a sunburnt orange and a charcoal grey. His eyes shone with passion, hands clasped together in front of him in a sign of practiced relaxation. Back turned to the setting sun, the man looked almost to be on fire, light flickering behind him. Every day, Theta saw him in one form or another, and the sight never truly ceased dropping his stomach down into the center of the Earth.

 

Sigma lifted a finger to his lips, and instantly Theta was silenced. "I understand your excitement, Another successful mission is nothing to be bashful about. However, we've discussed this before. Your…extracurricular activities, as they may be, are disruptive to the city around us. The noise attracts unwanted attention, and people in this city can be incredibly confrontational. We wouldn't want a villainous figure coming here when we're not prepared." Sigma paused, the echoes of his voice following suit a second later. "Your teammates can't adapt to the situation as quickly as you can. They require preparation, and a surprise attack could leave them defenseless, and you would be the only protector of this home."

 

_ What about you? _ Theta wanted to ask, but he bit his lip instead. Interrupting Sigma when he told you not to was difficult; it felt like his mouth was made of lead whenever Sigma spoke. So he just nodded, ready to get this conversation over with, so he wouldn't have to deal with the scary guy who was his guardian, so he could go to his room and do anything else with his time. He didn't say anything when Sigma picked up the box of firecrackers, smiling down patronisingly at him.

 

"Thank you for understanding, Theta. Now, come down to my office. I would love to hear about your mission with Eta and Iota, given how well it seems to have went. You're quite the leader after all, it seems; I'm glad I haven't made a mistake in appointing you to that role." Sigma began walking backwards towards the stairs, and on instinct, Theta followed him, step by step.

 

He didn't object when Sigma handed the box to the only other adult in the household, asking (commanding) Maine to dispose of the firecrackers properly and safely. He didn't say a single thing until Sigma closed the door to his office, the one he used when clients came in to tell him about their problems and get their highly-recommended therapy sessions and miracle cures from him, and Theta sat down on the overly-squishy sofa that the clients sat in. Only then, when Sigma gestured for him to continue, did Theta open his mouth.


	3. Trading Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bouquet Bar has a few rules upon entry that people have to follow. Nobody breaks them, and that's exactly why CT doesn't want to step into it.

CT looked apprehensively at the sign hanging on the door to the Bouquet Bar. It had been hand-carved onto a slab of cherry wood, with floral engravings accenting the corners and dabs of paint applied to give it a little splash of colour. The result was a sign that anyone who would walk into the bar seemed to simply have to read.

 

_ Welcome to the Bouquet Bar! Please abide by a few rules while you're here! _ _   
_ _ 1: Any names you learn here, stay here. _

_ 2: No fighting inside the establishment. _

_ 3: Don't use your powers without permission. _

_ 4: Remember to pay your tab! _

_ 5: Mind your own business when other people are talking. _

_ And most importantly,  _

_ 6: Try to have a good time! ☺ _

 

She grimaced before opening the heavy door into the bar, and looked around her.

 

The underground information broker known as Belladonna was well-acquainted with the Bouquet Bar, as were most active members of the vigilante community, on both sides. Bloom, as the owner was known, had carved out a small niche for his bar as a neutral ground, where information could be exchanged and friendships -- or at the very least, teams -- could be formed, whether they be between heroes or villains. As a result, there was almost no information within the community that didn't at some point come through the Bouquet Bar.

 

Constance Tegan always found a little voice appear in her head as she entered the Old World tavern - every single time. "CT, you're sure this is safe  _ this time,  _ right?" She'd been to the Bouquet over, and over and over, but still, Bloom always had something he stayed coy about, that he refused to tell anyone and that nobody could gather up the willpower to mind about. She knew his type, secret keepers with a little something extra to keep them in the game, and even if the man wasn't doing anything nefarious with the information he'd gathered, there was certainly more than met the eye about him.

 

Unfortunately, Bloom was reliable as well, and if she wanted to maintain her shaky standing in the delicate ecosystem of Necessity Labs, she would have to find the information she needed outside of its labyrinthine systems. With a sigh, she walked over towards the bar, where Bloom was pouring out what looked like an IPA for a skinny man dressed in a simple but well-tailored grey suit and orange tie. He had a face like a drowned rat who'd been introduced to GQ Magazine. She waited patiently for the man to take it and walk over to his two friends sitting uncomfortably at a booth before taking the seat that he'd left open.

 

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes. It sure has been a while since the last time we've seen each other, isn't it?" exclaimed Flowers -- Butch Flowers,  _ that _ was his name -- as he looked Connie up and down. "You haven't come in here since last November, when you needed to see who was involved in the Tartarus breakout. So tell me, why are you here now?"

 

This part, this was what CT hated about coming here. She thought -- she couldn't tell, exactly, not right now -- she could feel her thoughts being re-arranged. She thought she could hear her memories shuffling around like cards, bent like a rubber band. She wondered briefly what memories Flowers would alter, what memories he might steal or create. Flowers had a way of letting you just be fine with it. Existential terror didn't fly in his bar. His powers were alarmingly potent that way. 

 

It was a shame had to talk to him of all people to get what she needed. She would almost rather ask Delta over at the labs for information -- he might be too close to the source, but Delta at least kept his distance and didn't poke around to get payment. Hopefully Flowers wasn't going to do anything too uncomfortable this time. He didn't alter everyone's mind, CT reminded herself. Still, as unlikely as it was, as amazingly uncommonly as he did so,  _ there was always a sliver.  _ Not that CT was bothered. She felt...almost comfortable in his presence. Something like that.

 

"Hi, Flowers."

 

"Please, call me Butch."

 

"Right. Hello, Butch. I guess you know I'm not here for a drink, right?"

 

"Well, it wouldn't be Connie if you did, now would it?" Butch laughed, sweet, melodic, and chilling. "I won't force it on you, but you're still going to have to pay for what you want. You know that."

 

Connie sighed, slumping a little. "Of course I do. And I have a map that marks all the safehouses of the Armada Eight, which I'm sure you'll be willing to trade for information on the new heroes Shock, Joi, and Firework." CT leaned forward, trying to at least keep this information secret. Minding one's own business could only go so far, and she'd gotten used to the trappings of secrecy outside the bar.

 

For a moment, Butch seemed to consider the offer, looking up at the string lights hung around the ceiling in stars and hearts and moons, before fixing his gaze back on CT. "Well, that would be quite a treat. That little crew doesn't come in here nearly as often as I'd like -- only Mark does, really, when he's having one of his depressive fits. That poor guy, it must be hard to be the leader of that group…" He smiled, as if thinking back on the bad decisions the man had made in the Bouquet. "I can tell you what I know, but those three you're looking for are still children. We don't have an attached restaurant to this place. Not yet, anyway!"

 

CT snorted, finding the joke actually almost funny for once. Nobody else but Butch could get that out of her with that little. "I know, they won't come into your circle much, but you have to know who's funding them. They can't have gotten this far on their own, they're too well equipped, and there's too much about their rise that just fits too well. Tell me what you have."

 

"Oh, you're in a hurry, aren't you?" Butch smiled again, before leaning in to meet Connie. "Well, if you really want to know about these three, they used to be a part of a little project down at Necessity Labs. I'm told they volunteered for the process about five years ago, but let's see, around eight months back, somebody went and took them on a field trip and never returned. You can imagine how upset the Director was when he lost three young children -- I mean, that must have been such a shock for him, considering what he's gone through."

 

Worry began to unfurl itself in Connie's gut as Butch continued to speak. "Now, of course, there's someone completely different taking care of them, and I know for a fact that they don't come in here. Those three are school-aged, though, and I'd be willing to bet they're in the Avalanche school system. Either they're in eighth grade, or they just got into ninth." He looked pensive for a second. "It can be hard to tell with kids sometimes. Maybe the next time they show up, I can talk to them. Now, would you mind helping me out with a tip?" He held out his hand carefully, and let Connie drop a folded-up map into his palm before he took out a glass. "Oh,, and what can I get you?"

 

What the hell. "I'll have a John Daly. Nothing else, thanks." She began counting out the money from her pocket as Butch began to pour, and knocked back the drink within a few minutes before heading on out.

 

As she left the premises, Connie thought back on her discussion with Bloom, trying desperately to remember his name. He knew hers, and she had known his, because she'd been in there before. He had introduced himself back then, and asked for her name, and like a fool, she had given it to him.

 

He had mentioned someone else as well, a member of the Armada Eight -- probably its leader, considering how he'd mentioned the man having to lead the rest? Connie yanked at the long half of her hair in a frustrated attempt to remember, scrunching up her face in a mixture of concentration and the sudden realisation that the drink she had ordered was crap. All of it was gone, and all she remembered was what she had given, and what she had gotten. Memory snapped back.

 

God, she hated Bloom's work.


End file.
